Lucion, covered in dirt, dragged himself forward through the suffocatingly narrow tunnel.
'Damn it… What rotten luck. First a blaze-wolf, now this damned tunnel, squeezing tighter with every inch.'
Jagged stone scraped against his arms and knees, biting into his flesh, but he forced himself onward.
Each shove forward left less room to breathe, the walls pressing in like a vise.
Then his hand plunged into open air.
Cool, empty space.
A flicker of relief crossed his face.
"Finally... the end of this hellish passage."
As Lucion crawled free from the tunnel, he wiped the grime from his face.
His mask was long gone, torn off during the blaze-wolf's relentless pursuit.
When he opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat.
Before him stretched a realm beyond imagination.
A river of molten silver cut through the land, its surface rippling like liquid mercury.
Towering crystal spires pierced the heavens, refracting light into prismatic shards across the sky.
And above it all, a crimson moon bathed the world in an eerie glow, setting the very trees alight with an unnatural shimmer.
"This… this can't be real," he whispered, voice raw with disbelief.
Only one thought echoed in his mind, looping endlessly:
'Where am I?'
'Did I cross into another world… again?'
Before he could ponder further, the loose shale beneath his boots gave way.
"Shit—"
He skidded downward, heels carving furrows in the crumbling rockface until he hit the basin below in a cloud of ochre dust.
The impact drove the breath from his lungs - a violent reminder that this nightmare was all too real.
Staggering upright, Lucion found himself waist-deep in an ocean of grass, towering crimson stalks that whispered against his clothes as he moved.
Some blades pulsed with a faint inner light, their tips shimmering like dying embers stirred by the wind.
"Red moon grass…" Sweat trickled down his temple as he wiped it away, eyes fixed on the eerie glow.
'It shouldn't be growing in such abundance—unless…'
His gaze lifted to the sky, where a bloated crimson moon hung heavy, painting the world in bloodied light.
'Of course. With the red moon casting light around the clock, the conditions are perfect. No wonder it's thriving here.'
Red moon grass, a Rank 3 natural treasure prized by alchemists, only thrived under this eerie glow.
Yet here it sprawled endlessly, a fortune growing wild as common weeds.
He tried to pull his gaze away. "I'll look into it later," he muttered, attempting to distract himself.
But his eyes caught on something near the edge of the cliff, a plant glinting faintly in the crimson light.
His heart skipped.
"Even a Soul Nourisher… and not just any, it's golden bamboo."
He stared at it in stunned silence.
For a moment, he could only take in the faint shimmer of its golden stalk, swaying gently at the cliff's edge.
Then it hit him.
He remembered how the protagonist had to struggle desperately to obtain it, yet he had stumbled upon it by sheer accident.
With a heavy sigh, he barely contained his emotions… or his greed.
'Now's not the time.'
Lucion glanced around, wondering if this place held any more surprises.
He listened carefully, analyzing his surroundings for any sign of hidden danger.
After a brief moment, he exhaled slowly and spoke,
"No danger."
He then turned his attention to something else, the very thing a player had once found here, a discovery that defined his profession.
Without wasting time, Lucion moved forward, pushing through the towering crimson grass.
After some distance, he came upon an entrance.
Carved into the stone above it were the words:
"May the lucky one claim the Supreme Master's Legacy."
Lucion's eyes widened in shock… then slowly narrowed, suspicion replacing awe.
'What? Is this a joke? In Arcadia, no one ever reached the Supreme Master level.'
He stepped closer, eyes scanning every inch of the ancient doorway.
No keyhole. No rune slot. No visible mechanism.
'So how did that player even get in here…?'
His gaze shifted to the glowing ring on his finger.
He clenched his fist and shook the thought off.
"No. I don't know what kind of trap this place might have waiting."
But something on the door caught his attention, faint patterns, barely visible beneath the dust and moss.
Curious, he leaned in, squinting to make sense of them.
Ancient symbols? A language?
They didn't match anything from the Arcadia game files he remembered.
His fingers moved instinctively, brushing against the carvings with care.
The stone felt warm and smooth. Almost… alive.
Then, without realizing it, the ring on his finger grazed one of the patterns.
A soft pulse of light rippled through the door like a heartbeat.
The symbols flared for the briefest moment, then vanished.
Lucion stumbled back, heart pounding in his chest.
"What… what just happened?" he breathed.
The silence around him returned, but it no longer felt empty.
It felt like something had awoken.
Rustle. Rustle.
A faint noise came from behind.
Lucion's brows furrowed as he turned, instantly alert.
He snatched a nearby stone and hurled it in the direction the sound had come from.
Another rustle, then a horned rabbit darted away into the tall grass.
His breath escaped in a relieved sigh.
"And here I thought I was just imagining those red eyes…"
Shaking his head, he turned back to the markings.
He touched them with his fingers, Nothing happened.
But as soon as the ring brushed the surface again, the pattern glowed faintly.
He stood still, watching.
Then, a slow smile curled on his lips.
"So that's how, huh…"
"Runic Echo," he murmured, speaking the words aloud.
GRRRRRRRRR.
A low, guttural sound oozed through the silence, thick and wet, like tar bubbling under pressure.
The temperature plummeted.
The air itself seemed to recoil, pressing in around Lucion as if the dungeon had drawn a slow, hungry breath.
He froze.
The smile he'd worn vanished like a mirage.
That wasn't the wind.
His muscles tensed as he slowly, inch by inch, turned his head.
From the far end of the cavern, deep within the clutch of shadows, two burning red orbs stared back at him.
Eyes.
The same eyes.
Its black fur shimmered under the red moonlight, like a mystical phenomenon glimpsed for the first time—beautiful, yet utterly wrong.
"Shit," Lucion breathed. His voice was barely more than a whisper, fragile like a ghost swallowed by fear.
'How the hell did it get here…?'
His fingers dug into his scalp, trembling.
'No. This isn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen.'
"Nothing is going as I imagined," he whispered, shaking.
He inhaled sharply, forcing the tremors down, trying—failing—to steady his breath.
The wolf still hadn't moved.
It just stood there, silent… sniffing the air like a wraith unsure if it had truly found its prey.
'Stay calm. Calm…'
His heartbeat roared in his ears.
"Fuck,"
"How am I supposed to stay calm like this?"
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to study the beast's posture.
Then its gaze locked onto him.
Their eyes met.
In that instant, Lucion felt the temperature drop even further.
The blaze-wolf's black fur ignited once more, flames rushing over its body in a silent eruption of fire.
With a soul-shaking howl, it leapt down from the cliff into the forest of crimson grass.
And vanished from sight.
Lucion's blood ran cold.
"It saw me," he said, voice tight. "Oh shit… it really saw me."
A chill crawled up his spine.
"Today's just been one rotten hand after another," he exhaled shakily.
His hands trembled, but he forced them still with his other hand.
"Looks like running isn't an option this time…"
He glanced at the ring.
With a tap, it pulsed, and black armor surged out, wrapping around his body with a hiss of shadow and metal.
Tier Three armor. Not much… but enough to buy time.
"I can at least survive a few hits."
He summoned his dagger next, the blade cold and hungry in his hand.
Then, quickly, he retrieved his backpack, emptied its contents into the ring and hurled the bag far into the distance, a decoy.
He stared at the ring once more.
'No turning back now.'
"I hope it doesn't come to that."
He gripped the dagger with both hands, steadying his stance.
His eyes locked on the grass ahead, the crimson stalks rustling faintly, something was moving.
Lucion exhaled, his voice low, defiant.
"Come on, then."
His golden eyes narrowed.
"Let's finish this, you bastard."